


brown eyed boy

by serenfire



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Misunderstandings, Panic Attacks, Thallenweek2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 03:46:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4044679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenfire/pseuds/serenfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Barry picks up a part time job at Jitters, Eddie is the only customer who doesn't remind him of why he works where he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	brown eyed boy

**Author's Note:**

> This fic deals with a Barry who flunked out of his first year in college, and since he is someone who is very attached to his dreams and goals, this deals with the fallout of that.
> 
> @anyone I know irl: do not read thanks

_Oh,_

_Brown eyed boy,_

_Your words_

_Are too important to be remembered._

_Your eyes distract the mind._

_When I look at you I cannot listen,_

_And when I listen I cannot look._

 

_Oh,_

_Brown eyed boy,_

 

_Tell me your name._

'[lonely coffee shops, aren’t as lonely as they seem](http://hellopoetry.com/poem/161745/lonely-coffee-shops-arent-as-lonely-as-they-seem/)' - ash

* * *

Only yesterday, in the midst of a long summer stretch of sweltering heat and an unapologetic lack of clouds in the sky, Barry Allen applied for a job at Jitters. After coming home from a failed university experience he didn’t want to talk about because of his latent panic attacks, Iris had told him gently that it might be better if he had something to give him a reason to wake up in the mornings.

The paper sign taped outside the window of Jitters said _JOB OPENING - PART TIME BARISTA_ , and Iris had pointed it out to Barry as they went in for their daily iced mochas. “This is your favorite place in the town,” she said. “It’s literally the best option for work.”

Barry had swallowed the mass of butterflies and poignant fear in his gut and walked up to the counter to ask about the job opening.

He was slated to start work in a week.

*

Barry learns how to make basic coffee drinks in his first few days, and the sticker labels on the machines help immensely. He wears a hoodie underneath his barista apron, even as sweat rings his wrists and drips off his eyelashes, as he pours scalding and freezing drinks and offers them to customers who are sweating as well, but in less layers of clothing.

He doesn’t take off his hoodie when he goes home, either, and Iris hasn’t seen him in a tank top since before Barry went to college. When Iris asks him if he wants to go shop for clothes, Barry smiles wanly and reminds her he has work in two hours.

*

The first time a customer recognizes him as Barry Allen, Barry freaks out. It is an old lady who ordered a _coffee, black, small please_ and Barry hands her change for her payment, and she looks him in the face as she takes it, blinking.

“You’re Joe’s kid,” she says, and as if saying it makes it true, she looks more confident. “I heard you flunked out of college, but I didn’t know you worked _here_ now. Well, good for you.”

Barry doesn’t have enough strength to nod at her, or to smile or acknowledge that yes, he is that kid that failed university and apparently is now _the talk of the town_ , so after a few tense seconds she leaves his field of vision.

Barry stands there, gripping the counter with shaking elbows and trying not to scream or hyperventilate, both of which emotions are building up in the back of his throat. He stands like this until the manager on duty disentangles him from the counter and sits him down in her office as she takes over his post for the remaining hour before the shift change.

He’s so grateful to her when she returns to her office, smelling of coffee beans and syrup pumps, that he says, “Thanks,” and leaves without asking what his salary that day would be.

*

Barry’s working his first night shift when Doctor Wells’ particle accelerator goes online and then combusts, and Jitters’ glass storefront is shattered, spilling into the coffee shop. There are no customers there, but three employees duck behind the counter and check their Twitter news feed to discover that this has happened to everyone.

He picks glass out of his sweater arms, and none of the glass has pierced his skin, so he supposes he’s thankful. Maddy was rushed to the hospital because a glass shard as long as Barry’s finger was embedded in her thigh, right under the hem of her jean shorts.

Barry asks his manager if he could continue working the night shift.

*

He knows the regular rotation of police officers that frequent Jitters, during their lunch breaks, after the work day, and between their nightly activities, but Barry hasn’t seen this particular cop before. 

It’s particularly hot, even though it’s 10 PM, and the officer comes in, gaze raking the customer chairs like he’s looking for someone he can’t find, and Barry can’t help but admire how he wears his suit, as most of the officers this time of year forego the jacket and loosen their ties.

The cop finally goes up to the counter and looks at the options on the board behind Barry, and Barry gets a chance to stare at the beautiful man uninterrupted. He has great cheekbones and ruffled hair that looks like he just woke up, even in a suit.

Barry can’t hide his smile.

“I’ll take a cappuccino, medium, iced, to go,” the officer says, and looks at Barry expectantly.

Barry can’t help but notice his _eyes_ , which are almost supernaturally bright. He nods and rings the order up, looking pointedly at the cash register. “$2.99,” he says, flicking his gaze back up, and the man is still looking at him. “Can I help you?” he asks.

“Do I know you?” the cop interrupts.

“No. Um, what name should I put on the cup?” Barry asks.

“Eddie,” the man says, handing Barry the money. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you around.”

Barry hasn’t visited the precinct itself since before his dreams died, so he has no idea where Eddie would notice him from. “Nope, sorry,” he says, and escapes to make the drink.

Maybe Eddie the cop notices him from Joe’s pictures on his desk, maybe he knows about Barry’s hopes and dreams and _the rest of it_. Maybe if Eddie focuses too long on the sleeves and the bags under Barry’s eyes he’ll remember the stories that Joe tells his coworkers like they mean nothing, the stories that Joe thinks are boastful but really, really aren’t.

Barry scrawls _Eddie_ on the to-go cup and hands it to the man, admiring the man’s hand as he curls his grip around it and takes a sip.

Eddie’s face lights up, all at once. “The annual science convention,” he says. “Last year you had a presentation based on Stein’s research, right?”

“How do you remember that?” Barry asks, outright staring at the man. _He_ doesn’t even remember that once upon a time he was _good enough_ to speak at a conference, that once he was the high school nerd who graduated top of his class and could do anything.

And oh, how far he’s fallen.

“I think I remember the eyes,” Eddie shrugs. “Always a sucker for nice eyes.”

Barry stares at Eddie. Did the cop just flirt with him? Is he imagining conversations again?

Eddie takes his lack of response for a non-answer, and backtracks. “Never mind, I guess.”

“No! Thank you,” Barry scrambles for words that would adequately describe his reel of thoughts on how _you’re the first person that doesn’t remember how I’m a huge fuck-up and you actually think I have nice eyes oh my god._

Eddie gestures to the door. “I have to go,” he says. “But see you around?”

Barry nods. “Sure. Anytime!” he says, and watches the way Eddie’s suit jacket molds around his ass, because, _nice_.

Then he calls his manager and asks to be placed on the first night shift indefinitely, because it’s the best thing that’s happened to him all year.

*

Three days later, another person recognizes Barry and tells him so, and it’s not an old lady involved in Facebook gossip. It’s a man about his age that Barry has never seen before who takes one look at him and says excitedly, “Barry Allen!” like that name means anything now.

Barry flicks his eyes up to the customer even as he tries to contain his reaction, and the man smiles wider at the recognition.

Barry clenches his fists so he doesn’t start shaking, and doesn’t look back up at the man.

The man babbles, excited, “David was wondering when you’d show up at the precinct! I mean, _Joe’s_ been vague about the specifics, but he did say you had a job somewhere else, and I thought he meant somewhere sciencey, like STAR or Mercury Labs, but -” He shakes his head, grin still evident on his face. “It’s at Jitters!”

Barry closes his eyes. He calculates the rate at which breath is pushing at his trachea and how his lungs want to spasm, and how he’s _not going to have a panic attack at work because his shift has only just started._

“Are you okay?” the man asks.

Barry shakes his head.

“Oh shit, is this about your job? Did you not want me to talk about -”

Barry’s not sure what his face is doing, but it’s not pleasant.

Then he hears the best sound of his week.

The front door opens and Eddie says, “Is everything alright over here?”

Barry looks up over the excited man, and sees Eddie looking even more impeccable than the last time. He tries to smile at him, because if he blatantly ignores professionalism _again_ he should be fired.

The man somehow involved in the precinct turns to Eddie and recognizes him, saying excitedly, “Thawne!”

“Rob,” Eddie drawls, looking between the two of them. Barry unclenches his fists from around the cash register and takes a few hiccuping breaths. “Would you mind going outside for a bit?”

Rob keeps talking, apologizing. “I’m sorry, I was just talking to Barry, I’m not sure what happened -”

Barry tries to cover his face with his hands. _You should have known_.

Eddie steers him out of the coffee shop as Barry collects himself at the register, pulling his sleeves past his fingers and running them through his hair. He doesn’t want to talk about STAR Labs.

“I’m not going to ask what that was about,” Eddie says as he walks back up to the register. “But I did learn your name, _Barry_. That’s a cool name, I guess.”

Barry crinkles his nose in a smile. “I guess.”

“I can ask Rob not to come here anymore,” Eddie says. “Would that make you feel better?”

Barry shakes his head. “I have - I have to deal with it, you know? It’s my fault, and no one should have to tiptoe around me because of it.”

“But do you want them to?”

Eddie’s  looking at Barry without pity but with _care_ , which is ridiculous as this is only their second meeting, not including the science convention.

“Sometimes,” Barry says. “Um, what did you want to order?”

Eddie waves him off. “Nothing, don’t worry. I’ll just tell Rob to go to Starbucks, okay?” He walks away without a smile on his face, leaving Barry alone in the coffee shop.

Barry should feel less rejected than he does.

*

The dates tick down on Barry’s calendar until it’s the time when he _should be_ entering his second year at college, but he’s not, still stuck with a part-time job. He still comes home every day too late to interact with Joe or Iris and wakes up an indeterminate amount of time later, usually in mid afternoon.

The recognition keeps coming. He’s either recognized as Barry Allen or as Joe’s son or as that police wannabe kid, and each time it hurts a bit less. Each time the people realize their mistake and backtrack, Barry apologizes for the inconvenience. He doesn’t hyperventilate. He’s cool and professional, and may look pained at points, but he smooths things out.

The only problem is, Eddie doesn’t come back to see him, not once. Barry finishes his entire shift, not leaving for the back room until his replacement comes at 2 AM, and there is no sign of the blond-haired cop.

Barry tries to rationalize it. Maybe his schedule changed and he’s running traffic at midday. Maybe he found that he was a Starbucks junkie after all and switched places to get his fix. Maybe the reason he left had nothing to do with Barry, but with literally anything else going on in his life.

So Barry continues to suck up his abject horror at the mention of his name, and wears long sleeves into the weather that socially permits him to do so, and goes to sleep at three AM every morning and wakes up after noon with bags under his eyes.

It’s a life, of sorts.

*

Harrison Wells makes an apology about the particle accelerator on live TV and Barry watches it disinterestedly after he wakes, chugging coffee in his living room. He remembers the shower of glass and the terrified employees, of how his inner nerd had permanently settled in its skin, perfectly willing never to come out again.

He goes to work and no one else is talking about the apology, either, but he does catch Maddy rubbing at her scar tissue.

*

“You should come to the precinct Christmas party,” Joe tries to convince him.

_But Eddie will be there._

“I don’t even celebrate Christmas,” Barry tries to deflect. He tries to look like he isn’t sick of waking up for work that pays him in money he never uses, that he _wants_ to go but _can’t_ because Eddie might hate him after witnessing the confrontation between him and _Ron_.

“You used to go to every precinct party,” Joe says. “They still hang the same decorations from the walls. What’s changed?”

Barry shrugs. “I’m the one that serves everyone coffee. I doubt they’ll appreciate me being there, you know?”

“Bar,” Iris interrupts. “You’re Joe’s kid. They all love you.”

 _I haven’t been to the precinct in a year and a half and Eddie’s going to be there and I can’t_.

“Just think about it, okay?” Joe asks. “It’s not even on Christmas day, so you won’t miss any plans you may have.”

*

Barry makes pumpkin spice lattes and gets the smell of whipped cream stuck in his fingernails, and it no longer smells like a holiday, but like _work_.

He wishes people Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays, and smiles at them as they bask in the glow of _no work and surrounded by loved ones_. 

Barry keeps an eye on the door for Eddie, every day, and doesn’t dare bring the cop’s name up when he talks with Joe.

Barry discovers a bowties and an ironed shirt in his dresser a week before the party, and tries the clothes on slowly, as if they would break if he acted in excitement.

He looks at himself in the mirror and thinks, _If I have to face Eddie, this is what I want to wear_.

*

Barry plans a speech to tell Eddie, complete with explaining that he’s better now, that he doesn’t lock up every time people remind him of his biggest mistake, and that if Eddie would _please_ visit Jitters it would make his month.

Joe drives him to the precinct in the car with the sirens turned off on the dashboard, and Barry sits in the passenger seat staring at the CCPD plaque and the open doorway ushering festive people in for minutes.

He can do this.

*

The precinct is decorated like every year previous that Barry has attended the party and genuinely had _fun_ at it. There is too much dessert food at the buffet table, and all of the clutter of police desks have been cleaned. People in suits and dresses lounge around, and politely don’t look at Barry as he comes in, all skinny wrists and a sweaty forehead, memorizing the layout again.

Barry spots Eddie in the corner, talking to _Iris_ of all people, and before Barry can decide whether to approach him or run away, Iris motions him over to the two of them.

“This is the brother I was telling you about,” Iris finishes. “Barry, meet Eddie.”

“We’ve met,” Barry says. He can’t recite his speech about his _problems_ in front of Iris, so he’ll have to make do with small talk.

Iris raises her eyebrow. “Oh, _have you_?” she drawls.

“Yeah,” Barry shrugs. “He went to Jitters a few times. I haven’t seen him since August, though, so -” He looks the man up and down, noticing the deepening bags under Eddie’s eyes and the slight change in muscle mass. “Hello, I guess.”

“Hello to you too,” Eddie smiles at him genuinely. “I wasn’t sure if you would come for the event.”

“What? Because of my _condition_?” Barry frowns.

Eddie blinks, and looks between him and Iris. “No, because I’m here. I mean, we haven’t seen each other since August, and that must be kind of awkward. I mean, it definitely is, because I also haven’t seen you since then.”

“Now might be a good time to tell me why,” Barry says, crossing his arms. _Is it because you finally realized that I’m a failure and you probably should never be seen with me?_

Eddie grins at Iris, and Iris winks at Barry. “Well, Barry Allen, I kind of - wanted to ask you on a date? But like, Iris told me you were -”

“She couldn’t have told you I was straight,” Barry says without thinking about the words coming out of his mouth, because his brain is still stuck on _Eddie and a date_.

“No, she told me you weren’t looking for anyone, and I didn’t want to pressure you into doing anything you didn’t want to do. Still don’t.”

Eddie looks a lot more nervous than his police officer aura should allow him, and Barry almost laughs aloud.

Eddie wants to ask him _on a date_. 

He doesn’t want to stay away from Barry or discard him like a cup of stale coffee beans.

“Is that a no, then?” Eddie asks, and Barry realizes that he’s been staring silently at him for too long to be socially acceptable.

“No!” Barry says brightly. “Well, yes, I do want to go on a date with you. That would be nice.” He rubs at his wrists, and doesn’t feel his flaming red face.

“You’re blushing,” Iris tells him.

“I know.”

Eddie smiles at Barry, as softly as ever. “How does Friday sound?”

“Great,” Barry says. He’s still blushing, despite his best efforts.

“I guess I know where you live - Joe’s place,” Eddie nods. “So I’ll pick you up around six?”

“Sure.”

Eddie reaches out and hugs Barry, and Barry melts into it, wrapping his arms around the cop’s shoulders.

He can’t wait for Friday.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me at my [tumblr](http://www.tylerjosephstoast.tumblr.com) for more cool things of many different sorts.


End file.
